


Lessons in Battle

by Miriam_Heddy



Series: Lessons in Battle [1]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:39:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriam_Heddy/pseuds/Miriam_Heddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, but it would make a good story, I think. It's very dramatic. The God of War picks a man, just an ordinary mortal. No one in particular, right?"</p><p>This story is the first in a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in Battle

      **T** hat song. That infernal, irritating song. He was starting to hear it in his dreams, and so, had given up the pretense of sleep and starting to hunt for the source of the sound, deciding he had let it go on for long enough.  
  

                           Joxer the Mighty,  
                      He roams through the countryside;  
                      He never needs a place to hide.  
                         With Gabby as his sidekick  
                      Fighting with her little stick,  
                     Righting wrongs and singing songs,  
                         Being mighty all day long,  
                     He's Joxer...he's Joxer the Mighty!  
                     Ohhhh..... He's Joxer the Mighty, 

And that was only the first verse. As far as he could tell, Joxer was continuing to add to it, each verse more inane, more annoying, more insinuating, and dammit, more presumptuous than the last. No matter where he was, he could hear the damn song. It was starting to wear at him, distracting him from more important things. He'd all but given up working on Xena this month. Xena required a good deal more concentration than he had to spare right now. So, the plan was clear. Ares knew he would have to kill Joxer.  
  

                           I'm Joxer the Mighty!  
                        Blood...valour...and victory! 

Oh, and it was going to be a messy, violent death. Just the thought of it made him smile, and it was not a pretty smile, although he knew that some would find it quite seductive. This was War. 

* * *

Joxer didn't move on to the second verse, for which Ares was thankful. But only because Joxer was stuck on the first, testing out lines, all of which were equally stupid. "With no-one as his sidekick--He didn't need a sidekick--Fighting battles on his own--Fighting battles all alone--All alone." Obviously, Joxer had given up on Gabrielle. He felt a small twinge of pity for the little man who used to blare out those two lines as if they were the greatest poetry. But at least he'd decided to face facts. And the fact was, Gabrielle was in love with Xena. And the fact was, Xena was six feet tall and had an attitude. Now, if only Joxer would face the fact that he couldn't sing on-key. 

"Are you done? Is it finally over?" 

Ares let his voice precede the body that followed in a flash of light, and Joxer nearly walked into him. For most mortals, nearly walking into a God would be a big thing. But not for Joxer, who spent enough time with Xena and Hercules that he was actually getting *used* to sharing the same space with Gods. Well, that familiarity would have to be remedied. Ares imagined making the ground shudder beneath him, picturing a split in the earth that would stop just before swallowing Joxer and his noxious song up, but reconsidered. Joxer was already shaking a bit at the knees, after all, and when he put his sword down to steady himself, he jumped backwards after accidentally clipped himself in the toe with his own sword. Finally, he stopped moving entirely, and Ares realized that nothing he did to Joxer would be more destructive than what the man managed to accomplish on his own. 

"Oh, hi Ares." 

"Oh, hi Ares." Ares repeated, mocking him. But there was little satisfaction in that, either, since Joxer was used to that, too. It wasn't much fun to make fun of someone if they didn't seem to understand that you were doing it. Or if they didn't care. 

"What can I do for you? I haven't seen Xena in a few days, but I heard they were headed for Podidea for some sort of fertility festival, and I was headed that way anyway, so if you want me to give them a mess--" 

"I *know* where Xena is. I *always* know where Xena is. I'm here to see you." The man's presumptions were damned annoying. Didn't the mortal know that Gods were omniscient? Then he remembered, Joxer had already seen too much to believe that. 

"Oh." Ares could see Joxer getting excited, that little deluded light going on in his wide eyes, trying to anticipate a God. 'Wow. Ares is here to see little old me. Finally, recognition of my special skills. Maybe Ares needed my help? This is bigger than delivering a message to Xena. Ares is probably recruiting for a war--maybe even a special mission.' Ares almost laughed at the ease with which he read Joxer's eager face. 

Joxer straightened up and his make-shift armor clanked and scraped under the strain. 

"I'm here to make you an offer you can't refuse." Ares almost choked on the words, but forced them out. He'd really planned on killing Joxer, just striking him down on the spot. But he'd made a mistake, over-estimating his own irritation and popping in to do it face to face. He just couldn't strike Joxer down without telling him why. There was no drama in that. And now that he saw the poor schmuck, he realized he couldn't strike him down at all. It was too pitiful. Like pulling the wings off a fly. Death was too good for Joxer, he told himself, but he knew that there was no way to rationalize his pity for this mortal. But then he remembered that he was a God and Gods didn't need to rationalize anything. He could do what he wanted. He could be big about it and let the little man live. Besides, if he found Joxer irritating, he knew Hercules found him annoying. And there was a certain justice in letting Joxer live if it would bother Hercules. Xena too, although his reasons for that were more complex. At the very least, Joxer brought out Xena's less gentle instincts. Yes, the little man could be useful. As long as he stopped singing. 

"Okay. What's the deal?" Joxer swayed from side to side, nervously clanging his sword against his leg. 

"Stop singing the song and I let you live." 

"Stop...singing? But--" 

"But nothing. That's the deal. Stop singing or I'll kill you now." 

"But--" 

"Joxer. What part of this situation don't you understand? This is not open to negotiation. This is not a discussion. This is a God telling you to shut the fuck up. Period." 

"But--" 

Ares brought his arm down and blew up the nearest tree. He shook the tree a little first, as a warning to the birds, who flew out of it just before it disintegrated. Joxer jumped at the sound. 

"That tree is you after you say anything other than 'Okay, Ares. I'll never sing that song again.'" 

"Okay, Ares. I'll never sing that song again." 

"Good." Ares gathered himself together again and was about to head back to the Temple when Joxer stopped him. 

"But why don't you like my song?" 

"What? Why???" 

"Yeah." Joxer's voice was a whisper. 

"I don't need to tell you why. It's enough that I don't like it." But it sounded petulant even to his own ears. So he offered the explanation, deciding not to mince words. If the fool wanted the truth, he would have it. Joxer was still alive, because of his mercy. But he had no qualms about hurting the fool's feelings. He'd asked for it. "Your *song* is stupid. And off-key. It's an affront to me. It's an insult to me. Every second that you continue this charade of being a Warrior, you insult the God of War. You insult every true Warrior. Look at yourself. You're a clown. A joke. Your armor is ridiculous. *You* are ridiculous. You are no more a Warrior than you are a--" but he couldn't think of what to compare Joxer to, and so he stopped. Insults weren't really his line, anyway. He usually left that to Discord. 

"Oh." Joxer scuffed the ground with his boot, kicking up a few leaves. "I--I'm sorry. I--I didn't mean to insult you. I-- You're my favorite God. I mean, I worship at your Temple and..." 

Ares nodded, suddenly feeling like pond scum. Joxer looked pale. Paler than usual. Sallow. And his limp costume seemed even more tarnished, his chest shield was slipping down his front and Ares resisted the urge to reach out and fix it for him. This was not going as planned. This was supposed to feel good. This was supposed to be a pleasant diversion from the more difficult tasks of the day. The factionalism in Carthage was waning and there was the threat of immanent peace. He was overdue for a little talk with the king's son and he still had to visit that pretty little wife of that talented brute in the militia. So much unpleasant work to do, and now the day was already ruined by one little man. 

"I'm sorry. I won't sing it anymore. You can count on me. I'll sing something else. Or--or I won't sing at all. Nope. Not a note. I won't even hum. I can be very quiet." 

"I didn't say you can't hum. Just--lay off the song." Gods, but the man was impossible. You couldn't even really hate him for very long. Ares looked him over more carefully than before. He'd never had cause to pay much attention to this particular mortal. There were too many of them crawling over the earth to spend his valuable time on the individual. For the most part Ares dealt in armies, motivating vast numbers of men to fight, or he focused on the powerful individuals whose influence would advance the cause of War. This man would have been outside his scope of interest, and it was obvious that he *should* have stayed unnoticed. But that song had made Joxer more than another fly buzzing at Xena's side. Now he was a pest to Ares. But still, he couldn't motivate the energy to really hate him. The man was too pitiful to hate. Almost endearing in a lost-child sort of way. A God could become attached to something like this. Like Xena had become attached to Gabrielle. He shook his head. If he was starting to think like that, then it was time to get out of here. Too much restless energy and he might start to think about... No. Absolutely not. 

"Ares? Um, before you go?" 

"Yes? Make it quick. I have things to do." 

"Um. Okay. Well, I was hoping maybe you could, well, um. The thing is... I was wondering if you could maybe, if you see her, ask Aphrodite if I should give up on Gabrielle?" The last few words came out in a rush, and Ares felt the store of anger he was building up, just as a defense mechanism against the dangerous *warm* feelings he was having towards this mortal, deflating. 

"I'll see what I can do." 

Joxer nodded and Ares made himself disappear, not even bothering with the grand exit. He was suddenly feeling very tired, and decided that it would be enough to just visit the pretty wife. Carthage would have to wait. 

* * *

"Ares? Are you there? Oh, of course you're there. Sorry. I--I just wanted to-- well, to thank you for making me stop singing that song. I was getting tired of it anyway. I know I'm not the best Warrior or anything, and I've been thinking about what you said. Um, thinking, maybe I should try something else. I mean, I think that's what Gabrielle has been trying to tell me. Um, and, well. It's not that I think she'll love me or anything if I take up a trade. I mean, she loves Xena, right? Yeah, well. You know that. You know everything. Sorry. This is hard, talking to you. I guess, praying to you. Which I probably shouldn't be doing, since I've decided to stop being a Warrior. Which means I can't worship you anymore. So, I guess I'm just here to say, well, goodbye, I guess. I'll--um-- I'll miss you. Well, okay. Goodbye, then. And good luck with everything. Dang. I mean, you don't need luck. You're a God. But you know what I mean. Okay, I'll go now. Sorry to bother you." 

Ares was invisible, sitting on his throne, listening. He'd almost left the Temple when he saw Joxer approaching, but he changed his mind. He still felt a little bad about the whole singing thing, and had even started to think he'd made a mistake. Oh, he hated the song, all right. But he realized that he'd grown used to it, and now the world seemed to be a quieter place. Less... well, he would have said cheerful, but the God of War didn't condone good cheer. It was just quieter. 

And now Joxer was saying 'Goodbye Ares?' As if he could just walk away from War? Well, he could. That was how it worked. War might still find him, but if he didn't worship, well, he would just be at the mercy of those who did. Worshiping at the Temple brought Joxer some protection from the real Warriors, and Ares knew that Joxer didn't understand that or he wouldn't consider leaving. But Xena would still protect him. So fine, let him leave. He had plenty of disciples. One less half-wit clown pretending to know how to fight wouldn't be missed. Ares knew he would be just as strong, just as powerful without Joxer's prayer. So why was he absolutely sure he wasn't going to let Joxer leave? 

"Joxer." He let himself take shape on the chair. 

"What?!" Joxer turned away from the door. "Oh, you're here. I--I, uh, didn't know if you were listening." 

"I always listen." 

"Oh. So you know I'm leaving. Um, that's okay, right? I mean, no hard feelings or anything..." 

Joxer was headed for the door, and once he left the Temple, that was that. Ares couldn't go out there and bring him back. That would be humiliating. So he had to make a move. But it was so much effort, trying to decide... What to say that wouldn't sound like he was begging but wouldn't scare the little man off? He had an epiphany. 

"Joxer. I asked Aphrodite your question. Don't you want to know what she said?" 

"Oh, yeah! Thanks. I didn't think--Well, I didn't really think you'd bother." 

Actually, he hadn't. He didn't bother 'dite, and she didn't bother him. But he wasn't going to tell Joxer that. He'd just tell Joxer the truth, and if 'dite didn't agree, she'd just show up and...clarify. 

"Aphrodite said that you should, ahem, find someone who wants you as much as you want that person. She says that you shouldn't keep trailing along after Gabrielle, wasting your time on her, when she's never going to appreciate your worship. I mean, your devotion. Your love." 

"Oh." Joxer was looking down at the floor, but looked up again, thinking of the other question he should have asked. "Did she happen to suggest someone else? I mean, is someone else going to love me?" 

Me. The word almost popped out, and for a moment, he suspected Aphrodite had slipped into the Temple and was playing with him. But no, she wasn't there. He focused and could see her inside her own Temple, primping in front of her long oval mirror. The thought, the impulse, had been his, then. But why for this mortal? Why was he desiring the attentions of this little, insignificant, ridiculous man? He'd felt this way before, but not often. Not in decades, centuries, even. Sexual tension between men was supposed to stay unresolved. It was the fundamental drive that forced men into conflict. It was supposed to *stay* unresolved, dammit. 

But still, he motioned for Joxer to come closer and watched as the man took the few steps away from the door and towards the raised platform. 

"Come here. All the way up here." 

Joxer paused at the step up and closed his eyes. Ares could tell that he was scared, could actually scent the fear on him. And something else. Arousal. It was strange. This man who everyone thought of as a coward was actually getting turned on, in his little human way, by being this close to the God of War. It softened Ares to think that he was having this effect. And it hardened other parts of him to let himself think (and just think, for he was certainly not going to seduce Joxer) about removing the man's armor, sliding the sword from it's scabbard and sheathing his own weapon inside this thin, gangly young man who very evidently wanted him. But he was not going to do this. Joxer was going to settle for a trade, become a farmer or a fisherman. Or maybe a potter. Yes, Ares could imagine Joxer with his hands sliding over the smooth skin of a coiled claypot. The man had very nice hands, actually. Long fingered, delicate, not the hands of a Warrior, but not clumsy as he sometimes seemed. The man might even be clever with those hands, given the proper incentive. But no, absolutely not. Ares was *not* going to seduce him. He was not desperate for companionship. Whole armies would willingly give it up for him.  Countless wives of dead soldiers would open their legs to him. Pretty young women would take him to bed, thinking he was their lover come home from war, and he could get satisfaction from the deceit. So why was he trying desperately not to shiver at the possibilities presented with each step Joxer made toward him? 

"Ares? Are you okay?" 

He took a breath, startled that he had been holding it in. The exhalation calmed him and reminded him that this was why he chose the human's form, because the pains of it were also pleasures, and the pleasures were sometimes pains. And now, with Joxer's hand reaching to touch the arm of the throne, Ares could tell that he was divided against himself and would soon fall. 

"Joxer, it's all right. You can touch it." 

Joxer was holding back, his hand extended out to the jeweled hand-rest, his fingers curled slightly, and Ares suddenly imagined him as a skinny cat, batting at the throne with retracted claws. He dismissed the image quickly, before it could become a wish and actually transform this mortal into something else. He wanted him as he was, for unknown reasons, for reasons that he didn't want to think too much about. Because this man worshipped him and persisted at being what he was not even in the face of certain failure. For this was no Warrior. But he was strong and not afraid. And what else should a Warrior be but strong and not afraid of War? Yes, this man had potential, and Ares suddenly knew that he was capable of making this small man a success to rival even Xena. But he would not do it. He had learned his lesson with that woman, learned that sometimes people fulfilled their own destinies despite the Gods' wishes for them. 

Joxer's hand was resting gently, tentatively on the cold metal throne and Ares could feel the warmth transmitted by his touch running into his human-like body, a current of heat that tickled, a promise of greater heat and a harder touch. 

"What does it feel like?" He asked because he couldn't tell. Humans were too far removed at times like these and he wanted to invade Joxer's thoughts and read him, but he restrained himself just as Joxer began to talk. 

"It's cold, but it's like it's alive. Like it's part of you. Is that it? I thought it would be just a place, but it's animate. Charged, like the air before it rains." Joxer bent his head and opened his mouth, darting his tongue out and licking the outer curve of the arm, tasting it. Ares gasped. "It even tastes like I imagined. Copper, like blood. And the smell, like metal, like the sky on fire, lightening--" 

"That's ozone." 

"The taste of War. It tastes... Good. I... want it. But--" 

"But you don't. You want Gabrielle. You want stories and poems and epics and words. Not War." Ares didn't know why he said that. Surely he didn't want reassurance from this mortal. And why remind him of what he wanted? Why remind him of that little strawberry-blonde imp? That little woman who *was* a Warrior, in her own way? 

"You don't know what I want." 

"I don't?" He smiled at the tone in Joxer's voice. Nervous challenge. 

Joxer shook his head and continued to stare at the throne. "If I sat in this throne, would I be a real Warrior? Would that do it?" 

"No. But you would be mine." 

"Should I, then? Tell me what you want me to do." 

Fuck. Ares ran his fingers through his own hair, hoping to calm himself slightly. Joxer was asking for directions. One minute he was taking liberties with his tongue, the next he was submissive, but still, there was that challenge. Who would have expected this of Joxer? But he had, and maybe that's why he hadn't killed him. As an excuse for that moment of weakness, it would do. 

"What do *you* want to do?" 

Ares could barely breath with the tension crackling around them. He knew it was *his* tension, *his* own energy and that he could dismiss it from gathering about him. But he wanted to show Joxer this part of himself, because the mortal should know the threat of Ares before he made a decision. It was only fair. 

"I want to sit in that chair. But--" 

"What?" 

"I want to be able to sing my song." 

"You--you what?" Ares began to laugh, gripping the sides of the chair for balance, feeling his laughter explode in equal measure with the tension in the room, dispersing it and shaking the Temple structure. 

"I want...permission to sing my song." Joxer repeated, this time not so calmly, continuing to touch the chair lightly, despite the fact that it too was trembling. 

It was several minutes before Ares regained control. First, he checked the Temple and repaired the damage wrought by his burst of humor. Then he reached out and placed his own hand over Joxer's, squeezing tight and pulling Joxer toward him. 

"You can sing your song. Provided I have approval on the lyrics." 

"Good. And--" 

"No ands. No buts. We are not negotiating. This is still not a discussion." 

Joxer smiled at that and Ares noticed that it brought dimples to his pale cheeks. He wasn't beautiful, but he was pleasant to look at. His hair was standing up in places and Ares reached out and smoothed it down. Then he gave in to his first impulse and reached for the breast-plate, fingering the light metal before unclipping it from its harness. 

"Without my armor, I'm vulnerable." Joxer shuddered under his hand, but continued to smile. 

"Joxer, you're vulnerable either way. I'm a God." 

"So can't you just wave your hand and remove it?" 

There, that challenge again. He nodded and moved his hand as if to dismiss Joxer. Joxer gasped and then stood naked before him, his pale body glowing slightly in the illumination Ares provided. 

"You play dangerous games, Joxer the Mighty." 

"I meant the armor." 

"I know." 

"You're still dressed." 

"I know." 

"Did Aphrodite really say that? About Gabrielle?" 

"No. But I'm sure she would agree." 

"So am I." 

Ares stood up, finally letting go of Joxer's hand, and stepped away from the chair to make room for Joxer to sit down. But Joxer instead moved toward him and placed both his hands on Ares' chest as if to push him away. They stood that way for a moment and Ares could tell, without looking, that they were both aroused by the proximity, and he suddenly did want to remove his own clothing, but was afraid to. Unclothed and keeping this form, his own body, his own recognizable self, and even in his own Temple, he would be *like* this mortal. He would still be a God, but what if Joxer forgot the difference between them? Oh, but those hands were moving upward, touching his neck, those long thin arms wrapping around his neck, clasping behind his head, brushing against the hair curled there, softly carding through it. Ah Olympus and Tarturus and the Elysian Fields! He sighed and ignored his own thoughts, warning him that the God of War had no place sighing at the touch of a mortal. Gods could do anything they pleased, and this pleased him. A lot. 

He put his hands on Joxer's slim hips and let his fingers trace the swell of his ass. 

"Have you heard that saying?" 

"What saying?" Ares continued to rub his hands across the smooth skin of Joxer's back, knowing by the trembling in Joxer's legs that his touch was having its desired effect, that Joxer was losing control. How dangerous this was, to be with a mortal and worried about control. And how that danger was exciting in its own right. 

"I heard it in the South. A group of pacifists have been chanting it." 

"What?" 

"Make Love, Not War." Joxer giggled as he said it and Ares responded with a sharp slap to his soft ass-cheek. 

"That's not funny." 

"Yes it is," Joxer said, with the confidence of someone who knew humor well and probably did understand how often *he* was the joke. "But what's really funny is... Do you want to hear what's really funny?" 

"Probably not." Ares smiled as Joxer's grin faltered. "Go ahead. What's really funny?" 

Joxer leaned toward him and Ares realized that he was about to be kissed and almost pulled away. Was Joxer suggesting that *this* was funny? But he couldn't move and so he let Joxer's mouth touch his own. let Joxer's tongue trace the pattern of his lips, let Joxer's teeth nibble gently on the fullness of his lower lip, let Joxer's tongue enter his mouth, let Joxer-- Oh, Hades. There was no point in trying to pretend he had any say in this any longer. Just as he was about to give up, give in, and give himself up, Joxer pulled away and spoke softly near his ear. 

"What's really funny is that I've found out you can do both." 

"Do-- what?" Ares had almost forgotten they were still talking. 

"Make Love *to* War. See, it's a--a pun, I think. I'll have to ask Gabrielle what it's called. Make Love, Not War. Make Love *to* War. See?" 

There was no response that would be equal to that high-pitched giggle, and Ares knew that he was well and truly defeated if he thought even that horrible joke and that truly silly giggle that accompanied it, was sexy. So he waved his hand and produced soft bedding in front of the throne and let the heat build from the fireplace so that his mortal would not be cold, and then he pushed Joxer down onto his back and landed on top of him with enough force to push the air out of his lungs. 

"Ares?" 

"No. More. Jokes. No. More. Songs. No. More. Talking. If you so much as *think* about saying anything that isn't a moan or a scream, I'll have to gag you." 

"Can I still say your name, Ares?" 

Ares almost said no, just to emphasize his point, but the way Joxer said it, as if it were a caress, made him reconsider. 

"You can say my name as you come, but not before." 

Joxer nodded and then moaned as Ares brought his mouth to latch onto Joxer's left nipple, and the moan grew harsher as Ares waved his hand and removed his own clothing, settling his naked weight against Joxer's thin body. 

Ah. Skin against skin. It was a wonder men ever stopped fucking to fight one another. But thank the Gods, himself included, that they did. 

Joxer was thin, but wiry, strong enough to be a challenge. Ares bit down hard enough to draw blood from the man's neck and tasted him, letting the blood run down Joxer's neck and stain the white fur beneath them before healing Joxer's wound. He moved down the thin body, pausing to plant a kiss over each jutting hip bone, licking a path down the crease of his legs and stopping to rest at the base of the already very hard cock that lay flat against Joxer's belly. He took Joxer's balls in his mouth and applied enough suction to elicit a sharp gasp from the mortal. It gave him a thrill to hold this part of Joxer in his mouth, this part of him that was life, the promise of it, the continuity that kept these fragile humans from finitude. It was this promise that gave them strength to fight, and he knew that he would keep this man from a future of family, that he was too selfish to allow Joxer that, and hoped Joxer would understand. 

Joxer moved restlessly beneath him and he let go, finally, and moved up to take the tip of Joxer's cock into his mouth, letting it slide past his lips, using his beard to apply friction to the soft, pink skin. Joxer thrust into his mouth suddenly, but he didn't pull back, letting Joxer set the pace of his mouth and tongue on the smooth, pulsing organ. But just as Joxer threatened to come, Ares pulled hard on his balls, stopping him short with a moan that they shared. 

"Ares." 

"Uh, uh, uh. Not until you come, Joxer." 

He sat up and Joxer opened his eyes. Ares could see himself reflected in his eyes, could see the image of himself that caused those eyes to dilate with lust, could appreciate his body's response to Joxer, and Joxer's desire for his body. He nodded at Joxer and was rewarded with that same bright smile, disconcerting on a face already set with passion. Such a strange, unique, ridiculous man. With what he hoped would be a reassuring smile, he drew up Joxer's legs and lowered himself between them. There were benefits to being a God, and he readied Joxer with a small wave of his hand, knowing that there would be another day for slow foreplay, and that right now, he wanted to be inside Joxer. And so it was. Joxer tensed beneath him once, then relaxed as Ares moved inside him. His hands were gripping Ares' hips tightly, too long fingernails drawing bloody crescents on his skin, and Ares moaned again, surprised by the sound of his own voice, so rough with desire. It was as if he was outside himself, and for a moment he let himself see what Joxer saw behind those closed eyelids and that brought another moan, as it was abstract desire melting into a truly surreal image of himself in intimate detail, a God and a man and he actually surrendered to a sense of awe for what they were doing together that he hadn't known he was capable of, and decided that Aphrodite may have been playing with him after all, as this felt perilously close to love. 

Then he felt his body tighten, felt the white flash that signaled his own climax and stilled the urge to lash out at his surroundings. Having the Temple crash down around them might mirror how he felt, but it would certainly scare the mortal writhing beneath him. He settled, instead, for blowing up a nearby cavern, causing an avalanche that would stay the attacking army from Podidea until after the festival was over. 

"Ares!" Oh, God. Ares. Oh!" 

Joxer tensed beneath him and Ares bent to kiss the arched neck offered to him, and held himself tightly against the man's mouth so that his name was shouted silently. The Temple's tall ceilings echoed their harsh breathing and even the wet heat of Joxer's coming against him seemed magnified a thousand times. But once was enough, as his mortal seemed to fade beneath him, passing out gently into some peaceful place and Ares pulled out of his tight body and placed a kiss on each fluttering eyelid, sighing contentedly as Joxer's long lashes brushed softly over his still bruised lips. And when he smiled and thought, quietly and to himself, 'Fuck War,' he meant it, but just for that one moment that seemed impossibly and perfectly outside of history.

—FIN—

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a pretty odd pairing. But I do love them both and it was a pleasure to write this. Joxer appreciated getting some, finally. This story is dedicated to all the slashers who root for the underdog.
> 
> © 1998


End file.
